


a captain, a killing machine, and the homosexual agenda

by cosetties



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, like slightly higher than T but not quite M at all, no real spoilers though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosetties/pseuds/cosetties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Bucky says, “the HRC wants us to get married."</p>
            </blockquote>





	a captain, a killing machine, and the homosexual agenda

**Author's Note:**

> I NEVER MEANT TO GET SO INVESTED IN THESE TWO

Steve has a thing, see. Bucky says Steve is a wuss who can’t bear to see his friends sad. Steve calls it having a heart. Either way, Steve’s feelings get him on various international news sources holding Bucky’s hand, and he’s pretty sure there’s someone living at the North Pole who doesn’t get the pictures within five minutes of it happening.

“Well, darn,” Steve says, because he’s Captain fucking America, and national heroes don’t swear.

“Fuck,” Bucky says, because he’s the Winter Soldier, and soulless assassins kind of _do._

* * *

It’s not an easy recovery. There are days when Bucky still wakes up drenched in cold sweat, and Steve will talk him down from a nightmare. He’s never thought of himself the type to excel at anything involving interpersonal relations, but it’s Bucky Barnes, and he’s always been the exception to the rule.

There are days when Steve will roll over in bed and collide with the metal arm. He’ll think, _this isn’t the way our story was supposed to go_ , but then he’ll take all of Bucky in. His slack face, the way his mouth parts in his sleep. His lips are entering the realm of perpetually chapped these days, and Steve can’t help but lean down and kiss them. Bucky will blink himself awake, and Steve will think, _yes it is. This is exactly the way it’s supposed to be._

Then, of course, there’s the issue with the bed itself. Or, specifically, how they share it.

“You’re screwing a deadly Russian assassin?” Sam had asked when he found out. Some part of Steve had frozen then. It’s Sam, goddammit, and Sam’s been the closest thing Steve had to a best friend all those months he spent tracking Bucky down, but a part of him will always be stuck in the 40’s. He’ll always remember the illicitness and wrongness of it all, knowing that what he felt for Bucky needed to be crushed before it became a problem.

Steve made a noncommittal noise in his throat, but Sam had only clapped him on the back. “I hope they taught you safe sex way back then, man.”

* * *

Now, seated in his leaving room, surrounded by his closest friends and comrades, Steve almost wishes he’d kept their situation discreet. Not that it would have made much of a difference, he’s suddenly reminded, as he watches Stark pry his—boyfriend, lover, buttsex buddy?—with question after question. Superheroes have a tendency to stick their noses where they don’t belong.

“’Captain America and the Winter Soldier, Living in Sin’,” Natasha reads from her laptop. She scrolls through three news feeds at once, her eyes skimming fast. “’Who Tops?’ You know, buddy, I’ve been trying to find out longer than you, and they still don’t tell me anything. Oh, this one’s nice. Calls you the new face of the LGBT movement.”

“The teenage fangirls like it, at least,” Barton tells him. “I think. Hard to tell what they’re saying.”

“Your PR team is having a fit,” Natasha adds. “You’re supposed to stay wholesome for the public eye.”

“I have a PR team?”

Natasha places her laptop in Steve’s lap. “You’re Captain American, deal with it.”

It only takes one tentative scroll down the page before Steve decides that he doesn’t want to see any more. All these conjectures, these opinions, they have nothing to do with his and Bucky’s relationship. His stomach roils.

From across the room, Bucky lets out an excited, “No way, you can’t actually do that with my arm.”

Steve sighs. Now he has to deal with Bucky and Stark conspiring together too.

* * *

Bucky treats them to the nice lube. After everything they’ve been through, they deserve the best sex the 21st century can offer them.  At least that’s how Bucky justifies it when Steve winces at the price. And wince he does. Bucky’s gotten remarkably good at imitating him. He’ll clasp his hands tight, pull what he deems his best puppy dog Steve face, and whine, “What about the starving kids in Africa? What about the poor children who go home hungry every night? Do you ever think about them?”

Firstly, Steve doesn’t _talk_ like that. And secondly, that face isn’t so much a puppy dog face as a “please come over here and screw me silly” face. It’s times like these when Steve thinks God put Bucky on this Earth just to test Steve’s self-control.

Steve swears good lube and flavored condoms are Bucky’s favorite 21st-cenury technologies.

(He usually stops wincing as soon as Bucky actually starts using the goddamn lube, but that’s a story for another day.)

Steve has two lube-coated fingers in his own ass and is about to add another when it suddenly occurs to him. “What if they can tell we’re…you know.”

Bucky takes his hand from Steve’s cock and gives him a deadly glare. “You’re not serious.”

“They have technology.”

“We’re in bed. There are windows. And blinds!”

Steve can’t stop thinking about it, still. He’s never been too public with his affection—hell, he rarely even shows it in private. Eventually, Bucky just sighs and tells him to roll over and put on some clothes. If they’re not fucking tonight, Bucky has chick flicks he needs to watch. Just to keep up with that twenty-first century pop culture, you know?

They end up watching Colin Firth’s lake scene from Pride and Prejudice five times.

* * *

The next night, Steve rides Bucky extra hard to make up for it.

* * *

He’s never liked suits much. They constrict him, and if, say, deadly HYDRA operatives were to burst into the room, what did he have to defend himself with? A tie? Nicely-pressed pants? There’s no place to hide his shield, and no place to hide other weapons. All he has are his fists and his brains, and Bucky insists the latter aren't up for the challenge anyway.

Hill, of course, assures him that the building is secure.

“One press conference, just to clear the elephant in the room,” she had said. She rolled her eyes when Bucky came out of the bathroom, his hair standing up in all directions like he’d just been fucked. It wasn’t an inaccurate assessment. “Then you and Barnes can go off on your merry little way.”

That’s why he’s here now, with at least twenty cameras trained on him. Bucky had reason to opt out of this whole mess, and Steve resents him a bit now. Then again, Steve isn’t the one who’s still recovering from fifty years as a programmable assassin for a couple of world domination types, so hey, maybe he’s the one best equipped to answer the public’s nosy questions after all.

It’s a sad day when Steve Rogers is the best option they have for public relations.

“Yes,” he says, wincing, “I am in a relationship with Bucky Barnes.”

“No, I wasn’t aware that he’d been mind-controlled by HYDRA until he attacked me.”

“Yes, we’re perfectly comfortable in our relationship.”

 _“No,_ the serum didn’t ‘make us queer’—do you know how sexuality _works?”_

Afterwards, Sam will tell him that’s the sassiest he’s ever seen Captain America. Steve can’t help but feel a little proud of that.

* * *

Steve thinks it’s almost worth it when he gets a letter in the mail from Jonathan, sixteen years old and gayer than a rainbow. Steve and Bucky had given him the courage to come out to his family, and, alright, it hadn’t turned out well. His father had thrown dishes, and his mother had cried, but he doesn’t regret it. He’d come to accept that part of himself, thanks to Captain America and his blatant disregard for traditional American family values.

He shows the letter to Bucky when he gets home, and Bucky lifts his eyebrows.

“Kids love you way more than they should.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“That’s because you’re a sap,” Bucky tells him, swatting him over the head with the letter. “Now come on, get ready for bed.”

Bucky can claim whatever he wants, but Steve notices he can’t wipe the smile from his face either.

* * *

(There are also the letters that tell him he’s going to hell, that he’s not fit for the suit with his degenerate tendencies, but he only throws them in the trash and kisses Bucky harder to wash away the bitterness.)

* * *

“So,” Bucky says, “the HRC wants us to get married. Apparently, having Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes representing your cause means lots and lots of money.”  

He holds the article open for Steve to see, and it’s an analysis of their relationship through the years. Apparently, every one of their interactions was a form of repressed homosexual love, from the casual touches to the self-sacrifice. Honestly, the reporters aren't wrong. Steve has loved Bucky for a long time now. It just took him while to admit it to himself.

Steve peeks over the top of his own newspaper, glasses perched squarely on his nose. It’s a look Steve likes on himself, knows Bucky likes it too, just judging from the way he licks his lips. 

“Do _you_ want us to get married?”

Bucky plops down on the couch next to him, wraps his arms around Steve’s waist. “I think I’d look nice in a suit. You know, with the metal arm and all.”

* * *

Steve takes Bucky to Paris. Bucky’s already been there—probably a million times before. But this time, it’s with Steve, and because they’re some sort of idiots in love, he’s determined to make this the best Paris visit Bucky’s ever had.

Bucky points out that his past visits have been more assassination missions than visits, so it won’t take much to improve on them, but Steve thinks a little motivation never hurt anyone.

Steve kisses him on top of the Eiffel Tower, just a quick peck. They’re decked out in nondescript clothing, and Steve wears a cap to hide his blond hair. In spite of that, there’s a camera flash almost immediately, followed by a slew of others.

Later, Steve will breathe apologies into Bucky’s skin, but Bucky tells him there’s no need for that. The pictures are almost worth it.

Honestly, Steve’s face when they caught the first photo, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, will keep him laughing for a month.

* * *

They get Fury to set up the best security he has around their building. They lock themselves up in their apartment for the next two weeks. No Internet, no phones, no nothing. Only Steve's closest friends get call privileges in the case of an emergency, and Steve is optimistic enough to think they’ve finally learned the meaning of respect.

Stark calls Bucky no less than twenty times to discuss whatever improvements he wants to make to the arm, but for Tony Stark, the man made of pure narcissism and extreme lack of inhibitions, that’s an improvement.

The initial plan is marathon sex, but they’re not as young as they were, even with the serum coursing through both of their veins.

That’s what they tell themselves, at least.

(Even heroes lie to themselves.)

Truth is, they get their hands on the original Star Trek, Bucky gets addicted, and of _course_ Steve insists on watching Star Wars right after to compare. Then, Lord of the Rings, because you can’t have sci-fi without fantasy. Now, Harry Potter because that’s practically a modern age classic.

They emerge from their cave two weeks later, bleary-eyed and loose-limbed.

“I don’t even want to know what you two got up to in there,” Sam tells them.

To protect Sam’s delicate sensibilities, they don’t breathe a word.

* * *

After Steve gets back from chasing a HYDRA agent in Murmansk, he can’t even get to his own apartment without a reporter stuffing a microphone into his face. He’s getting sick of it, the constant scrutiny. He’s Captain America and Steve Rogers all in one, but for once, he wishes he were neither.

Bucky, unrecognizable underneath his sunglasses and hoodie, smirks.

“How does it feel knowing that you’re only furthering the homosexual agenda, Mr. Captain America, sir? Is your gay lover also available for questioning and possible purification?”

Truth is, he’s getting pretty damn sick of furthering anyone’s agenda but his own.

So Steve grabs the back of Bucky’s shirt and pulls him close. He rips the sunglasses from his eyes and dips him backwards, bridal style.

“With all due respect,” he tells the reporter, “it feels pretty damn good.”

Then he kisses Bucky, dirty and loving and thoroughly inappropriate, right there on the street.

**Author's Note:**

> on the off chance you want to talk to me, [here's](http://mariuspontnerdy.tumblr.com) my tumblr!


End file.
